Bite Me, Castle
by Twisha
Summary: Who doesn't love a good vampire fic? Well, as Meatloaf said, two out of three ain't bad. This will be a series of small one and two-shot fics about the Castle crew and Vampires. (Note, they don't sparkle). Very AU, obviously. Enjoy! Rated T for the f-bomb. I know it sounds weird, but give it a try. Ch. 4: Castle has something to tell Kate...
1. Going Somewhere

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.

Author's Note:I like vampire fics, they're a little kinky and lots of fun but there aren't many of them out there. So I decided to write up a series of short fics exploring the idea of vampire ism in the Castle universe. This is just the first one and they won't all be the same storyline. This is purely for fun, no brooding themes or deeper meaning here (For that check out my other fic, "Connection", hint, hint). If anyone has an idea for this series, feel free to suggest it! I'm open to dumb ideas here ;)

In all seriousness, please hit the review button. Even if you just say you liked/hated it, it will still mean the world to me. I'll even try to review you back! (Yes, I will stoop to bribery to get more reviews, why do you ask?)

I hope you guys have as much fun reading this as I did writing it.

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Richard Castle had a whole list of things he wanted to experience in his life. Bleeding to death in an alley wasn't one of them. At least the girl who pressed her jacket firmly into his abdomen, trying to keep his lifeblood from seeping out, and cursing him for a fool and worse, was pretty. Very pretty.

What a shame.

It was the fourth of July.

He'd been increasingly restless these past few months. He still didn't regret killing Storm, yet as the days stretched into months since the release of Storm Fall, his frustration with writers block had grown to nearly unbearable levels. All he needed was that spark, that sudden inspiration and the knew the words would flow. He could feel them crowding his mind, a turbulent reservoir of language pressing on the inside of his skull. Never before had his boundless imagination failed him.

There was a first time for everything he supposed.

So he'd taken to walking. A bit cliché perhaps but he had been growing desperate. The heat wave of the last few days had kept him indoors. and he had driven his Mother and Daughter out of the loft with his fretting. By midnight, he truly understood the term "climbing the walls". He had to get out.

The air had cooled marginally but the humidity was unrelenting. The air hit his face like a warm wet blanket. Clouds hung low and heavy overhead, seemingly a breath away from bursting, so he grabbed an umbrella from the lobby and set out.

He'd only gone a few blocks before he heard it, the unmistakable sounds of unarmed combat. After a brief hesitation, his curiosity got the better of him. He'd barely turned the corner when the male combatant, whom he could have sworn had been at the other end of the alley, appeared in front of him. That's when he felt the pain.

It certainly hadn't been the first time his natural inquisitiveness had gotten him into trouble but always before he'd been able to charm, bribe, or wheedle his way out of it relatively unscathed. Apparently, you couldn't charm your way out of a knife.

Once again, his eyes couldn't follow the woman as she moved to catch him. His blood shone wetly on the knife as the man spoke.

"You'd better hurry kiddo, I got him pretty good. I doubt even an ambulance could get here in time." He looked thoughtful.

"There's always the second option, but you don't do that do you Kate? Sorry I can't stay and catch up," He hadn't looked sorry. "You know how it is."

The man had disappeared into the night.

The woman had propped him against the wall before turning to glare, which had lead to the cursing, and the bleeding. and the...Castle's eyes slipped closed.

"Stay awake goddamn it!" the woman snarled, bloody hands desperately pounding 911 into her cell phone. He could hear the mechanical voice come out of the speaker.

"We're sorry, all circuits are busy now, please try again later."

"Fuck," the woman swore. The woman's beautiful green eyes turned on his. "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"Walking," he croaked. "I'm..."

"I know who you are Mr. Castle," she snapped, hitting the redial and getting the same automated response.

"A fan I take it?" he said.

Her only response was to roll her eyes. She drew a groan from him as she pressed harder on his wound. He wondered what other kinds of groans this woman could elicit from him. Assuming he survived the night that is.

Footsteps preceded two out-of-breath men down the alley. Rick couldn't see them very well but he thought one of them might have been Hispanic.

That one spoke first. "Which way?"

The woman shook her head, the motion conveying large amounts of information he was sure he was not privy to. "Let him go Espo," she said. "He'd kill you".

Espo snorted. "Well if you would just..."

"NO Espo. I've told you already. We're done talking about this."

"I hate to interrupt," Rick said, "but you know, bleeding here?" Not his most eloquent speech perhaps, but it got the point across.

"You two keep trying to call Emergency Services," the woman ordered. "I'm going to take a look at this."

She pulled her jacket away. The fibers were thick with his blood. He bit back a cry as she peeled his shirt back, revealing the ugly gash. Rick nearly passed out again when he saw the bleeding pulse along with his heart. He didn't need to be a best-selling author to know what that meant.

Never taking her eye off of his wound, she licked her lips before catching the lower one with her sharp little teeth. In less dire circumstances, it might have been adorable.

"Renal artery?" he asked, quietly.

She nodded. "Probably." She put her jacket back and turned to her companions. "Where's my bus?" she demanded.

The blond one shook his head. "Sorry boss, I think the cell tower's down. Some sort of holiday prank."

"Fuck," she repeated. She raised her eyes to Rick's. They were full of pity. In a voice that sounded entirely too resigned for his taste she breathed, "I'm so sorry."

Was she giving up? No. no. There had to be some way. "Didn't that other guy say something about another 'option' or something?" He asked, desperation tingeing his voice.

She looked away. "You don't want that."

"Well if the alternative is dying, I'm pretty sure I do." His vision blurred for a sec. Was he really having this conversation?

"You can't know what you're asking. I'm sorry, I really am, but No."

"So you're just going to let me die?" he said, angry.

She looked down again. "You have no idea. I know this isn't fair..."

"Fair?" he yelled. "You're damn right this isn't fair! I can't die now." The fight in him faded as swiftly as it had arrived. "Please," he begged, "I have a daughter..."

Her head snapped up. "How old?"

"Fifteen," he said, blinking through the tears. When had he started crying? "Her mother's in California. I'm all she has."

She winced as if he had struck her. Then she seemed to come to a decision. "Espo, Ryan, watch the street. I don't want any more curious onlookers." She obviously had directed the last statement at him. She knelt close to him, her hands working the few buttons at his throat.

He should have figured it out then, he really should have, but with the pain and blood loss the only thought that went through his head was to wonder why her hands were so cold. Her slim fingers brushed against the short hairs at the back of his neck and he shivered. "Just try to relax," she whispered, drawing him in towards her chest. His eyes showed only confusion.

Her mouth was only a breath away from his skin when he saw the teeth.

Everything clicked in that one moment. oh. Oh. OH! Her lips brushed his neck as his thoughts swirled with realization. He felt a sharp pain...

And then he didn't think of anything at all.

Later, when asked to describe the feeling, the best he could come up with was a full-body orgasm, exquisitely drawn out over a seeming eternity, and even that fell far short of the reality. He was awash with sensation; the rough jacket sliding over the slick blood on his belly the fast, deep flutter of his heart, the cool kiss of her lips as she drank his life...

Holy Shit.

It lasted a moment, it lasted a lifetime. She held him tightly as she withdrew, otherwise he would have fallen. He was so weak he barely noticed her biting into her own wrist. "Castle!" she shook him and his eyes shot open. "I need to know. Is this what you want?"

With the last of his strength, he nodded.

"Okay then." she said, and pressed her wrist to his lips...


	2. He Takes so Much Looking After

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.

Author's Note: This one is a little weird but please stick with it til the end. As always, please review!

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Her boy was unhappy again. He was trying to hide it, but she could tell. She could always tell. Little things gave him away, a tightness around his eyes, a downward twist to his lips in between fake smiles. He had killed off his lead character months ago, and his mood had been souring ever since. He still signed chests and flirted with his little cronies but his heart was not truly in it. It worried her. She hadn't seen him this bad since Kyra.

When she'd found him, he'd been sixteen, all gaunt and gangly with limbs grown too long for his frame. She'd been doing a play, and he had snuck backstage. She had felt his eyes following her all evening, could smell his desire and his equally strong curiosity. It was the second that had drawn her to him, that naked lust for life, for new experiences. In a world of shadows, he had outshone the sun.

That night, he had wooed her with words, beautiful and dark. She had shown him things then, and for many nights afterward, things even his rich imagination could not have conjured.

It almost made her regret making him forget it.

She could have turned him then. At that point he would have granted her anything. She had refrained, however. Time and again she had seen her brethren throw caution to the wind and it almost always lead to heartbreak. She didn't want to turn him too soon, didn't want to cheat him out of a full life. A few decades of patience were a small price to pay to prevent an eternity of resentment.

His real mother had been easy to erase from his mind. She had been a drunk who had never even wanted him. That woman couldn't see what she saw. He was unique. In two thousand years of walking the Earth, she had never found anyone quite like him. Orpheus had been close, at least before the death of his wife had driven him mad. Even that was a pale comparison. Orpheus had tasted like the moon, all still energy and cold light. Richard...Richard was her long-lost sun. His blood burned hotly in her throat, filling her being with a golden glow. It had made her feel not only alive, but young, as if the world were new.

So she had taken him. Weaving a new history in his mind, so detailed and complete he hardly even noticed. Truly, it had been her finest work, until that bitch Kyra had ruined it. She'd only had him five years, supporting and guiding him, and then he had to go and meet _her_. She'd put an end to it as soon as she had been able. Not soon enough as it turned out. He had been utterly heartbroken, unable to write, his fire nearly extinguished.

So she'd made Meredith for him. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. The girl had been nice enough, if a bit stupid, but she'd never been quite right once her mind had been tampered with. He had needed someone extraordinary, and even with her help, Meredith hadn't stood a chance. He had needed someone whom he could love fully, unconditionally, as was his nature.

Letting him play Daddy had been one of her more brilliant ideas. It had required no small adjustment to his memory. It had also required certain...sacrifices on her part. She had written herself in as part of his family, one with a certain sensitivity to sunlight. Unfortunately, the ridiculous customs of this time had such a problem with incest, even if it was fictional. It had worked beautifully. He began to write once more, more prolific than ever. It didn't matter that she could no longer taste him aware. He had been happy, and she had basked in his glow once more.

For fifteen years, it had been enough. There had been a few hiccups. Gina had been a surprise, albeit, she had thought, a harmless one. It was a warning, a signal, that he had begun to grow restless once again. He needed a partner, a human mate, but she had long since despaired of finding one worthy of him.

Telling Gina about his writer's block had been a long shot, and predictably, it had gone wide. Still, she had listened to his tale of woe with a sympathetic ear. She always listened, and she always would.

She pushed her red locks behind her ear, and felt another set of eyes on her. The "Silver Fox" leered at her. In her youth, the poets had said that hers was a face that had launched a thousand ships. In reality, it had only been a few hundred, but still. She should be used to the adoration by now. This time, it irritated her, distracted her from the problem at hand. What was she going to do?

She turned her attention back to him. "I just want someone to come up to me and say something new." he whined.

At that moment, fate intervened.

"Mr. Castle?" the woman said.

Stunning. That was the only word she could come up with. Like Richard, this woman practically shone. However, whereas his light was warm and golden, hers burned hot and blue-white. Two stars of equal brightness, she knew they would orbit each other in a beautiful dance. This was the answer. She would stay back, let them come together on their own, and only when they were hopelessly intertwined would she strike.

She would have them _both. _

She would turn Richard first, and then, if he had been good, she would let him take the woman himself. Then the three of them would be free to live out their unlife together.

Always.

Everything was falling into place. She smiled as she grabbed the pen from Richard's unresisting hand.

"That's new," Alexis said.

And she meant every word.

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Additional Author's Note: Did I get anybody? Did you think the narrator was Martha, or was it obvious that it was Alexis from the beginning? I tried to make it ambiguous until the very end. Do you think I succeeded?

I told you this one was a little creepy and I meant it. I'm not sure where it came from but I figured that any being who was 2000 years old would at best consider individual humans treasured pets, even if they were as extraordinary as Rick and Kate.

Pretty please with sugar on top, hit that Review button! I'm particularly proud of this one and I want to know what you think.


	3. This Must be What Going Mad Feels Like

Disclaimer: These are not my characters, even when they are vampires.

Author's Note: I am having so much fun with this. This is a continuation of Chapter one, from Kate's perspective this time. If the language is a little over the top, that's intentional. C'mon, they're vampires, florid language is compulsory!

Hitting the Review button would make me very, very, happy!

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Kate Beckett was trying very hard not to panic as she waited for Richard Castle to die.

It wouldn't take long. His breaths came short and fast, the sound of his heart fluttered wildy in her ears, cold sweat shone on his forehead, and his eyes had gone dark. She hoped, once it was all over, he could manage to forgive her.

The day she had been turned, she had sworn that she would never share her curse with anyone, doom another soul to this hell. The moment his heartbeat ceased, the change would begin. He would be trapped in an agony of spasming muscles and burning flesh. Eventually, the pains would cease, only to give way to a new horror. He would awaken as a monster, like her, only able to exist by preying on his former species.

Even if she were not already damned, this act alone would have condemned her soul to the pit.

Her thoughts went to her turning. She had thought that coming home to learn of her Mother's murder would be the worst night of her life. She had no idea how wrong she could be. If she had any idea where it would lead, would she have gone down that rabbit hole quite so willingly?

She had just made Homicide, flush with achievement. She had given every waking moment to her mother's case. Someone had noticed.

She had awoken on a boat, alone, save for him. He had...done things to her, things she never wanted to think about, yet, even now, five years later, he still managed to invade her dreams more days than not. He had taunted her, mocked her cries and struggles, let her think he was going to let her go before cruelly plunging his fangs into her neck. She had weakened quickly, even accepted her imminent death, until he pulled back to mock her one last time.

"_You taste just like your Mother_," he'd whispered.

That had roused her just enough, fanned her anger and strengthened her will, to fight back.

She'd bitten him.

The blood that filled her mouth had been cold and sharp-tasting, paradoxically managing to be both bitter and sweet. It had burned her throat still, and she had savored it. He had roared like a wild thing, flinging her broken body over the side into the frigid water. He had no doubt assumed she had drowned.

She had no idea how Esposito had found her, shivering, broken, and nearly dead. Well, not so nearly as it had turned out. It was a miracle she hadn't killed him that first night. He insisted that it was fine, yet she had never forgiven herself for it. Tonight's events were just one more sin piled high on her weary conscience.

Not that it mattered.

Since that night she had existed almost entirely on expired blood packs from Lanie or, when she got too desperate, animals. She'd had to take from Javi only twice more, and Kevin once. They had offered freely. She hated having to do it at all.

She had managed to remain as a consultant at the NYPD, working nights only of course. Her boys did all they could to maintain her cover and help her quietly track down the devil who had done this to her and who knows how many other women over the long years.

She had been devastated at Royce's betrayal. She didn't even know when he had been turned. Was it before their partnership? Had she really been that blind? That was only one of the questions she had planned to ask him once she chased him down, only it hadn't turned out that way.

All because of _Richard-Fucking-Castle._

She had no idea why he was here, and she supposed that, in the end, it didn't really matter. Royce had noticed him half a second before she, and in that short time he had formulated and executed his plan. Her former partner knew her too well, knew that she wouldn't leave an innocent to die, even if it meant losing her lead.

Damn him.

She had seen the pain and fear grow in the handsome author's face, had felt him wince with each breath, had heard the desperation in his voice. It was not her fault that he had stuck his distinctive nose into business that did not concern him. The downed tower had been sheer bad luck, but it was possible he would have died anyway. She was well aware how often these things happened.

So why had she felt so guilty? Why had the thought of watching the light fade from those deep blue eyes filled her with terror? What was it about him that had spurred her to give this total stranger what she had been denying her best friend for years?

A hitch in his breathing drew her out of her memories. His chest rose one last time, and then, fell, never to rise again. She held him like a child as he whimpered and groaned through the torment. He clung to her like a teenager with a broken heart. Much sooner than she had anticipated, yet clearly not soon enough for him, the tremors slowed and then ended.

This was the moment. Would he hate her? Curse her? Run off into the night, never to be seen again?

Slowly, his eyes opened. They flited around for a couple of seconds before coming to rest on her own.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he answered absently. He sat up and his hand went to his side. "It's gone!" he asserted, referring to his wound.

She nodded, nervous now. If she had still had breath she would have held it.

She watched him as he put the puzzle together. First he felt at his chest, then his neck, and finally his teeth, yelping a little as the sharp point pierced his finger. Surprise and another emotion that she couldn't identify came over his face.

"You turned me into a vampire?" he asked quietly.

She nodded again.

"A real, honest-to-God vampire?"

"Yes," she confirmed, not sure what else to say. She braced for his, in her opinion, entirely justified anger. Instead, he broke into what could only be described as a goofy grin.

"This is SO AWESOME!"

She was in so much trouble.


	4. When does that get fun?

Disclaimer: Not mine, but I do have a birthday next month...

Author's note: I'm not sure if I like this one, but I really wanted to do one where Castle was the vampire and this is what popped out. I think I did ok. I had more back story but it was getting pretty long so I just left it out. I apologize for my punctuation. I know it isn't the best, but constructive criticism is welcome!

For everyone who has reviewed, thank you so much! Your comments really brighten my day and inspire me to write more. Tell me what you think of this one.

* * *

.

Kate Beckett hadn't thought it were possible, but Richard Castle had found a new way to piss her off.

They had been locked in a freezer of all things, by a madman with a dirty bomb. That part was not his fault. The situation did serve to shorten her temper a bit, however, and when it became obvious that they were well and truly stuck she had reached out to him and asked him for a silver lining.

What came next was definitely his fault.

His face had grown serious, almost contemplative, as if he were weighing something in his mind. He had been silent for so long she had begun to get a little worried. The silence had stretched long between them, becoming nigh unbearable. She had broken first. "Castle," she had asked timidly, "Castle, what's wrong?" Only after the words had left her mouth had she realized how ridiculous she had sounded. He had let it pass, however, nodding to himself as if coming to a decision. He had fixed her with a determined stare.

"I think I can get us out of here," he had said quietly.

"Oh really. How do you propose to do that?" she'd snarked, skepticism warring with hope.

"Look," he'd said, clearly uncomfortable, "I know we've been together a long time...there are... some things...about me that you don't know..."

She had rarely seen him so flustered and she had felt her anger rise. "Just spit it out Castle." Then he had said the words that had really ignited her ire.

"I'm a vampire."

She blinked.

"Really." he asserted.

She shook her head as she advanced on him. How dare he pull this now? "Now is not the time for your fucking stories Castle!" she snapped, her rage so hot it nearly blinded her. "We are in mortal danger!" she raised her hands to shove him against the wall. She expected him to wince and take it, as he had so many times before. Instead, he grabbed her wrists, rocking her back on her heels as he stopped her momentum. Surprised, she searched his face but his characteristic twinkle had vanished. He looked deadly serious.

His mouth twisted in a predator's grin. "Well, technically, I'm not," he deadpanned. He clarified, "To be in mortal danger, one must first, by definition, be mortal to begin with..." She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. Had he always been this strong? He kept talking, not even acknowledging her struggles, his tone deep and even, "it's hard to hear, I know, but I'm telling the truth Kate." His eyes fell to their joined hands, and he released her at last. "Sorry," he muttered.

Massaging her sore wrists she took a deep breath to calm herself. He was only trying to take her mind of the hopelessness of their situation. That must be it. In a goofy kind of way, it was almost sweet. She shot him her classic eye roll and said, "A vampire? Really? That's the best that 'master storyteller' Richard Castle can come up with?"

In a hurt tone he stated, "you don't believe me."

"What's not to believe?" she sniped nastily, "You've only been following me nearly every _day_ for the past three years..."

"There's sunscreen..." he interjected.

She kept on going, "nevermind the fact that you have a _daughter..."_

"Meredith was already pregnant when we got together!"

Truly furious now, Kate began to yell, "Goddamnit Castle, this is _serious_! No one knows we're here! We're going to freeze to death, and that bomb is going to go off and kill thousands of people and there's not a damn thing we can do about it." She blinked rapidly, trying and failing to hold in the tears. Her ragged breath formed clouds around her face, blocking her view of her partner temporarily. He stepped in close, and she realized that he had unbuttoned his shirt. "What now Castle? Are you going to suggest we huddle together to conserve body heat?" she finished bitterly.

"I would," he growled as he captured her wrists once again, "if I had any." He forced one of her palms against his neck and used the other one to open his shirt wider. His skin felt ice-cold, and his the look in his eyes was no warmer. "No pulse," her still hand on his neck could not detect one; "no breath," his chest did not rise beneath her fingers; "no blood." She winced as his movements revealed what could only be a bullet hole nestled under his collarbone. Her brain seemed to turn to mush.

"You're lying, you have to be..." she pleaded.

"I. Am. A. Vampire, Kate," his voice brooked no argument. "I promise I will explain everything later, but you're right, we don't have much time. I can get us out of here, but I need your help."

"How, why?" coherent thought had deserted her. He spun her until her back pressed against him. He buried his nose in her hair, drawing in her scent. She gathered her wits and asked, "can you break the door open?"

"Normally, yes," he answered.

"but now..." she pressed him.

He hesitated, his voice uncertain. "With everything going on, I haven't had time to feed recently..."

Her shiver had nothing to do with the temperature. "So you need me to..."

"I'm so _hungry, _Kate," he moaned wantonly behind her, "and when I'm hungry, I'm weak. I don't need much, just a pint or two, and then I can get us out. Please, Kate," he begged, "let me taste you."

Her eyes widened in fear. This was no joke. Richard Castle was a vampire and he wanted..."Does it hurt?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Quite the opposite actually," he informed her. "Most of my..." he paused, searching for the right word.

"Victims?" she supplied archly.

"More like partners," he corrected. "I'm not evil. I never take without permission, even if they don't remember much afterward. Before you ask, no, I have no idea how I do it."

Something terrible occurred to her then. "Have you ever, you know, taken, from me before?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. You would remember something...just not the specifics. Most people pass it off as a sexual encounter. It's a very...intimate...sort of act."

"So all those girls on page 6?"

"Man's gotta eat," he joked.

"So not funny, Castle."

"Sorry."

After a brief silence, Kate nodded once, and said "OK, Castle. Let's get out of here."

"Really?" he seemed genuinely surprised.

"Just do it Castle," she ordered hotly, hoping that he took the hint and did it before she had a chance to change her mind.

"Yes ma'am," he answered. His right hand pulled at the zipper on her jacket as the left gently cradled her chin. The cold air chilled her neck as he exposed more of her flesh. One or both of them trembled in anticipation as he lowered his head until his lips touched and then he bit...

It was fucking amazing.

Pleasure coursed over her skin as she tried not to cry out. With the pleasure came a certain...awareness, of him, of his desire for her, and it was that awareness that nearly undid her. She had no idea that he wanted her this much. She marveled, briefly, at the sheer amount of willpower he must possess, to want her this badly...Her thought went unfinished as he adjusted his grip and sucked harder, drowning her in sensation and driving her to distraction. Much too soon, he was ripping his mouth from her skin and pushing her away. She fell to her knees and whimpered at the loss of him.

"Sorry!" he gasped, his eyes still filled with want. He licked the last of her blood from his lips before asking, "Are you ok?"

The world spun crazily as she nodded. She moved to a seated position to get her bearings. "I feel a little weak," she admitted, "but I'm ok. Is it like that every time?"

"No," he told her, eyes wide. "I mean, it's usually good but that, that was amazing!" he gushed.

"Focus, Castle. Can you get the door now?"

"What?" he said, not comprehending, obviously still caught up in the moment. It took him a second to pull himself together. "Oh, right, the door, saving the world, that whole thing..." he babbled. He reached for the steel barrier, twisting it apart like cardboard. He carried her outside and placed her on the warm pavement. He turned to her and started "Hey, about that thing in there, I...well..."

She interrupted him. "Bomb first Castle," she pulled out her phone and found Agent Fallon's number. "After that," she said, fixing him with her best Detective Beckett stare, "you and I are going to have a talk."

"Agreed," he said, "I look forward to it."

Kate grinned at her even more unusual than she had thought shadow. She turned her focus to the phone as her call connected.

"Agent Fallon, we have a lead on the bomb..."

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Oh, and remember, suggestions are welcome!


	5. So Very Pretty, Part 1

Disclaimer: Just playing in the sandbox. Move along.

Author's Note: I'd like to thank SassaM for giving me this idea. I had planned to write one where Castle learns that Gates is a vampire but no one believes him, but that would have been too long a story so I'll have to use the idea later. This one turned into a two-shot anyway. I think this turned out OK. Do you think I get Castle's voice right? Please tell me in the Reviews!

* * *

So, yes, he had to admit that the idea of being handcuffed to the chair in the interrogation room with his pants around his ankles had, indeed, occurred to him. More than once. In several different variations.

However, never in his wildest dreams, (or, for that matter, in his darkest nightmares) had he imagined the woman kneeling between his legs to be Captain Victoria Gates.

It had started last Summer, when Kate was still in the hospital. They'd been feverishly working her case, eager to catch the shooter before he could finish the job, when a bunch of construction workers had kicked them out of the bullpen for three whole days. They had replaced the windows, some high-tech fancy stuff that was supposed to be not only bomb-proof, but also managed to block 99.9% of the UV rays from the sun. The next day, the new Captain had arrived.

From the start, she'd made him feel uncomfortable. Clearly, she didn't like the idea of a civilian working police cases, but even then, there had been something more...sinister...about her attentions. At the time, he'd had more important things to worry about. He hadn't been sleeping well, and he was worried about Beckett, so losing a few hours here and there due to exhaustion didn't seem to be outside the realm of possibility.

And despite all the crazy shit he'd made up to drive Beckett up the wall over the years, he didn't _really_ believe in vampires.

When she had kicked him out, it had almost been a relief, almost. He still ached to be on the case, but it was nice to not be scrutinized every minute of the day while he tried to get work done. That had been unbelievably annoying.

So he had finished "Heat Rises", or at least as finished as it was going to get. It had been difficult, Gina had nearly killed him, but he had managed. He was worried about the next one. He wouldn't know how the story ended until he talked to Beckett, which as the summer wore on seemed to be becoming less and less likely. He _had_ been less tired though.

Then she had shown up at his book signing and they had resolved some things.

Sort of.

Maybe.

At least he had been allowed to shadow her again (or whatever the hell it was that he was doing, he wasn't sure anymore). He had hoped that Gates would warm to him.

She hadn't.

She still glared at him every chance she got. He'd felt a little like a bug under the microscope, or the main course at a fancy dinner. He had ignored it as best he could.

He had thought his lack of energy had stemmed from the constant stress with Beckett. As the year wore on, it became more and more difficult to concentrate on anything, much less the cases. Maybe that's why he and Beckett had gotten into that funk there for a while. He liked to think that, if he had been firing on all cylinders, he might have handled the "lying to him" thing a little better. He certainly should have noticed the memory lapses.

It had all come to a head (so to speak), with the decapitation case. What the hell had he been thinking? At least it had turned out OK. He had just been finishing up ice cream with Alexis when he realized he had left his phone at the Precinct.

He didn't remember anything after that til he woke up in the break room with a pounding headache and a strange looking hickey on his neck. He'd been so freaked out he had almost not taken the zombie case, and even then, he had taken to wearing one of Alexis's crucifix necklaces, garnered from her year at a Catholic elementary.

He was still terrified when he realized that he had once again left his cell phone at 'work'. He had almost chickened out, but the fear of Beckett's face if he told her that he was scared to go to the precinct because of vampires strengthened his nerve.

He should have listened to his gut.

_"Looking for this, Mr. Castle?"_ Gates had purred, flashing his purloined cell.

It had gone downhill from there.

"Can't we talk about this?" he'd pleaded, as she'd dragged him down the hall to the interrogation room.

"Oh, Richard," she'd laughed as she'd snapped the handcuffs home, "you always say that."

"That is in no way reassuring, I hope you know," he'd managed.

Plopping into his lap and working the top of his button down, she'd smiled again. "It wasn't meant to be."

At least she had stopped when she saw the cross. He decided right then and there that the damn thing was never coming off. She'd jumped up as he'd shot her a smirk. "Something the matter, Captain?"

It hadn't taken her long to regain her composure. "Oh, Richard," she'd said, "I had thought that you had come to enjoy our time together". She'd run her nails down the side of his face as he tried not to think about what her words might have meant. "Your neck is _so_ sensitive," she'd continued, "maybe you'd like to try someplace a little...lower." She'd let her hand come to rest on his inner thigh, so he could not misunderstand her meaning.

Oh Jesus Fucking Christ.

He'd broken out into a cold sweat, but had been unable to do anything as she began to unbutton his pants. "Don't worry Richard," she'd mumbled as his jeans met the floor. "You'll forget all about this in the morning".

He caught a glimpse of inch-long fangs as she lowered her head. His fear-addled brain held him mute, save for a quiet whimper that emerged from the back of his throat without his permission.

It seemed like a lot of things were happening without his permission.

He closed his eyes, praying to every god he could think of that this would be over quickly; so he'd jumped about six inches at the sound of the door.

"Beckett!?" he squeaked, "This isn't what it looks like!"

She shot him the 'Ricky you've got some 'spainin to do' glare before turning to the dark-skinned woman before her.

"No, I think this is _exactly_ what it looks like," she snarled, before grabbing Gates, one handed, by the throat and slamming her against the interrogation table. "Someone is trying to take what's _mine._"

And for the life of him, he couldn't decide if he wanted to be aroused...or terrified.

For now, he was going to go with both.

* * *

By the way, there is a vein close to the surface of the skin on the inner thigh. That's what she's going for, not...anything else. It's a non-standard vampire bite site, but I have seen it used. I try to keep it T!

Oh, did anybody catch this Firefly reference in 'Headhunters'. They're talking about how the victim screwed up and the chick says:

"He abandoned a truck full of _stolen medical equipment_ on the FDR after he ran _out of gas."_

That is clearly a nod to Firefly, but nobody ever mentions it. Don't forget to review!


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